“What was it you said about my family’s homicidal habits?”
“There are far easier ways to kill a man,” I noted. “Stifling him with frankincense must have some sort of significance. Is there a large amount of it in the house?”
“The steward tells me there is some kept in the family shrine for the household gods,” Gabinius answered. “There is never more than about half a pound of it on hand. I looked and there is about that much still there. Silvanus has at least a pound jammed down his throat. The killers brought it with them.”
“Who was the last to see him alive?” I asked.
“After dinner he dismissed his slaves and went to bed it seems.”
“And who were his guests?” A wealthy and important Roman almost never dines alone. Failure to entertain nightly means a reputation for miserliness, which is death to a political career.
“Most were those Roman businessmen from Alexandria,” he said with distaste. “A despicable lot of moneygrubbers if you ask me.” He had the true aristocrat’s distaste for people who earned their own money instead of stealing or inheriting it. Gabinius had stolen and inherited quite a bit of it in his time. All quite respectably, of course. There is no shame attached to plundering the conquered and squeezing treasure out of desperate allies. His conviction for extortion and subsequent exile was just political bad luck not lasting dishonor.
“Were you here last night?”
“Eh?” he asked angrily, “what’s that?”
“I merely want to establish who was present,” I said.
“As a matter of fact I was at my house outside the town. When the murder was discovered, Doson locked the doors and sent a messenger to fetch me.”
I ran a hand over my face, deep in thought. This was a complication I surely did not need. Pirates were a nuisance; this could be a disaster. “We need to assess the state of anti-Roman sentiment on the island. If this was done by a disgruntled pro-Ptolemy faction, we could be looking at the start of a war.”
“I hope you do not imply that I was involved in this sordid business!” Cleopatra said hotly.
“Just now I can dismiss no one from suspicion. This is a matter of utmost seriousness.”
“I will conduct the relevant investigation,” Gabinius said. “There is no need for this to distract you from your duties.”
“But there is,” I said. “I was his guest.”
There was little he could say by way of objection. Hospitality is more than mutual entertainment; it involves sacred obligations. I was eating his food and sleeping beneath his roof. And ancient, ritual law decrees that if a host is slain, it is the duty of his guest to avenge him. Silvanus was a man I had not known well and did not particularly like, but that is of no significance to religious law. Failure to seek out his killers and bring them to justice could draw the wrath of the gods, and I was not about to risk that.
For a while I examined the bedchamber but found nothing of significance. There was little evidence of struggle other than a slight disarray of the bedclothes. I assumed that Silvanus must have been asleep when the killers struck, allowing them to pinion him securely before he had a chance to resist.
“When will you make the announcement of his death?” Cleopatra asked.
“I see little point in concealing it any longer now that we have been informed,” I said. “Aulus Gabinius, why don’t you go ahead and inform the city council and post notice of Silvanus’s demise? For now there’s no need to say that he was murdered. This isn’t Rome, and we don’t owe these people a rigorous legal accounting. They may as well have the impression that he died of natural causes or misadventure. If anyone challenges that, it will be evidence of a conspiracy.”
He nodded. “It makes sense. With all that stuff cleared out of his mouth, he’ll look presentable enough for his funeral, except for the color of his face. How shall we say he met his end?”
I shrugged. “People drop dead all the time, and nobody can say why. But you might as well simply say he choked to death. It’s not an uncommon cause of death. I’ve known men of great distinction and accomplishment who have choked on peach pits or chicken bones. It will account for his blackened face.”
“I shall do it then,” he agreed.
“How many of the household know for certain that he was murdered?” Cleopatra asked.
Gabinius thought for a moment. “Doson, Androcles the steward, and the slave who discovered him; and she’s spoken to no one but Doson, he’s assured me. My own men, and I’ve instructed them to keep silent about it. For the rest, they just know the master’s dead.”